Chapter Eight.
932 Words
The door opened without a sound, Damien stepping in as quietly as a shadow. His gaze immediately went to the bed—and there she was. Aurora. His mate.
She was curled beneath the blankets, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. For the first time since he had laid eyes on her, she looked… peaceful.
Then his gaze fell on the tray. The bread had been nibbled at, the fruit bowl empty—but the soup sat untouched, steam long gone. A flicker of surprise passed across his face, quickly replaced by a sharp flare of anger.
She didn’t eat, his wolf growled. She’s starving, and she still didn’t eat.
Damien’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. But then his eyes returned to her face, soft in slumber, and the fury faded. Warmth seeped in instead, softening the sharp lines of his features.
He stepped closer, every movement deliberate, savoring the rare chance to be near her without her recoiling. His wolf purred in satisfaction, calm for the first time all day.
She was everything he wasn’t. Pure, fragile, untainted despite the darkness that had clearly marked her. How could something be so broken yet so beautiful? His chest tightened with something he hadn’t felt in years.
Mine, his wolf whispered.
“Yes,” Damien murmured in reply, his storm-grey eyes locked on her. “Ours.”
But then, she stirred.
Her face twisted, a soft groan slipping past her lips. Then another—sharper, pained. Her body tensed, her hands clutching the blanket. “No,” she whimpered, voice cracking. “Please no, I’m sorry. Don’t—please stay away—”
Damien froze, his wolf snarling in distress.
Mate! She’s hurting. Do something!
Without thinking, he moved. He sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her into his arms. She was so light it startled him, like holding porcelain that might shatter at the slightest pressure.
“It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair, his voice rough but steady. “I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you. Not while I breathe.”
Her fingers latched onto his shirt with desperate strength, clutching it like a lifeline. She buried her face against his chest, her whimpers softening until they faded into the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Damien’s wolf quieted, soothed by the trust she gave even in her sleep. Slowly, her breathing evened out, her small frame relaxing against him. She was at peace again—in his arms.
He stayed like that for a long while, holding her, letting the warmth of her seep into him. But eventually, he knew he had to let go. If she woke up to find him so close, she might panic, and the last thing he wanted was her fear.
Gently, he laid her back down, but her hand remained tangled in his shirt, refusing to let go. Damien froze, torn. His wolf urged him to stay, to never move. But reason whispered otherwise.
He leaned down, his lips brushing close to her ear. “It’s okay, blue eyes. You’re safe here.” His voice was soft, a promise meant only for her.
Carefully, he stroked her hair, soothing, while prying her hand free one finger at a time, terrified of hurting her fragile skin. When she finally released him, he lingered—just for a moment.
He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his mate, letting it steady the storm inside him. Then, with the greatest reluctance, he rose and slipped out of the room, leaving her to sleep in peace.
By the time Damien left Aurora’s chambers, the softness in his chest had hardened into steel again. He found Marcus waiting in the corridor, posture stiff, eyes flicking briefly to the door his Alpha had just closed.
Damien didn’t waste time. “What have you found?”
Marcus shook his head once. “Nothing concrete yet. My men are still working. I’ve sent them across the borders, into allied packs, even whispers through rogue networks, but so far—”
The words cut off when Damien’s aura rolled over him, heavy and suffocating. His storm-grey eyes narrowed, glowing faintly as his wolf stirred beneath the surface.
“I don’t want excuses, Marcus,” Damien said, his voice deceptively calm but sharp enough to sting. “I want answers. Who she is. Where she came from. Every detail of her past.”
Marcus bowed his head. “Yes, Alpha. But gathering intel from multiple packs takes—”
“I don’t care how long it takes,” Damien snapped, the control in his voice cracking just slightly as his wolf pressed harder against him. “I want that report on my desk at first light tomorrow. No delays. No excuses. If someone so much as breathes her name in this territory, I want to know about it.”
The Beta’s throat bobbed, but he nodded firmly. “Understood. You’ll have it.”
Damien stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over him. “She’s mine. That means anything tied to her is tied to me. If anyone hurt her—if anyone dared—” His jaw flexed, his teeth grinding. He didn’t finish the sentence, but the weight of his unspoken threat was enough.
Marcus dipped his head again, wisely silent.
Damien turned away, his shoulders tense, his wolf pacing furiously inside him. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. He needed answers, and once he had them, he would decide what kind of retribution her past deserved.
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